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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28141428">Red Brands, Mage Hands</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bronsautracks/pseuds/bronsautracks'>bronsautracks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Red Brands, Mage Hands verse [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dorian is just trying to do the right thing, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Necessary but unwanted proximity at length, Past Hawke/Isabela (Dragon Age), Red Lyrium Fenris, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Wait I think I might be writing a fic that doesn’t need content warnings?!, because I will die on this trope, content warnings will be in authors notes at the beginning of their chapters, fairytale AU, hi and welcome to self-indulgent fic to keep track of my headcanon #2, oh wait nevermind, past Anders/Fenris - Freeform, yes I have a problem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:47:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,646</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28141428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bronsautracks/pseuds/bronsautracks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You will need to sleep, for me to separate the diseased mineral.”</p>
<p>“Better than when it was bestowed upon me.”</p>
<p>“There is a chance you won’t awaken.”</p>
<p>“Ah.”</p>
<p>In which Fenris’ markings get all blighty and Dorian sometimes saves the day, but mostly he’s just here so no one asks questions.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Lavellan/Solas, Fenris/Dorian Pavus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Red Brands, Mage Hands verse [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080761</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Easy as pie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Maybe I’ll come up with a better summary. Hi welcome to “slowly torturing myself by writing the terrible and sad headcanon I have developed from the POV of different characters.”  If you’re here from my kirin/Solas fic SURPRISE, KIRIN IS NOT MY CANON LAVELLAN, ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE BRIATHARA SHE MAKES KIRIN LOOK LIKE A SOFT BOI. Also I’m a slut for language, expect some made up Tevene later lmao.</p>
<p>CW: canon typical mentions of slavery</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was Isabela who summoned Fenris to the ranks of the Inquisition, initially. Hawke had been at Adamant with its leader at the time, hunting down Warden blood mages and Magisters. It had sounded like the kind of thing he’d like to involve himself in, and so without question, he began making his way south from Rivain. </span>
</p><p>He lamented leaving the brisk sea air behind, but hadn’t been planning to stay idle so long in any case.</p><p>However, he couldn’t say that the entire Inquisition welcomed him with open arms. Many within Skyhold’s sturdy, frozen walls were hesitant; consumed with the paranoia that war had instilled within them and the stories of the Champion’s radical companions. It wasn’t that he was intimidating and aloof, or even that he hailed from Tevinter. No, he could hear it in their soft whispers and see it in their frightened faces.</p><p>It was, as always it had been, mostly his strange glowing markings, and then more recently, his past association with the apostate. Without the Inquistitor’s presence to comfort her people, they avoided him altogether, and so his first few weeks were spent in isolation, aside from nightly drinks with a hodge-podge band of mercenaries who called themselves the Bull's Chargers, and the occasional conversation with Leliana who he had only met briefly a few years prior. One other exception was the Altus, who bore an unnerving fascination for the lyrium that wove through his skin. This was the one he avoided, if only to keep himself from ripping the man’s larynx out to stop his inane prattling.</p><p>He wished that the uncomfortable weeks had continued, though, for the news that returned with Lavellan and her forces was graver than he’d ever imagined.</p><p>
  <span>Minhaya was lost to them. Forever this time.</span>
</p><p>Isabela had raged. Her fury wild and powerful as though she harnessed the very waves she had tamed. The Inquisitor was left standing in the wake, brave-faced and solemn, only uttering a soft apology, which of course meant nothing to any of them.</p><p>Isabela requested to be sent on a mission, far, far away and one was granted to her. And then another. And another after that. He never saw her after that, but it was to be expected. Isabela loved two things with all of her heart: Hawke and the open ocean. And so the ocean would swallow her grief.</p><p>Fenris had stayed despite his loss, his attachment to his once leader appearing miniscule beneath the shadow of the world being torn apart around them. Varric seemed to share the sentiment, though they wouldn’t discuss Hawke for some time to come.</p><p>He had very little to do in the beginning; just small trips to the west to eliminate Venatori every once in a while, and a few errands for Leliana to dispatch an inconvenient noble whenever he had the opportunity. For the most part they had him doing what he did best, if in a new and exciting way: dealing with slavers. The Inquisitor was not content to take out little bands here and there, and had told him, eventually, that she had a very specific task in mind for him. </p><p>She wanted to rip them out at the roots.</p><p>She had him bring in the ones that he could for Leliana to interrogate, and seemed to be making some kind of headway, if you trusted her word. Which he did, for the most part.</p><p>It was half a year since the news of Hawke’s death when Lavellan summoned him to her quarters to dispatch him on the ill-fated mission. She was sitting behind her desk, windows wide open letting the Ferelden chill whip around her face and hair. She seemed unbothered altogether by the cold.</p><p>“You asked for me?” he called, stopping after ascending the last stair. His thick ferelden overcoat billowed around him, the plush furs at the collar fluttering around his jaw. Not his preferred attire, but he deemed it necessary for the climate.</p><p>Without looking up, she shoved the map she was scouring aside and stood, only acknowledging him with a short, “I did.” She began sorting through a pile of books on the ground, and he waited patiently, wondering what had her out of sorts.</p><p>“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked after a few silent moments passed.</p><p>She dropped to the floor, crossing her ankles, and finally met his eyes, waving a large tome in his direction. “Can you read Tevene?”</p><p>
  <span>“I..” he tried to answer, but came up short, a long forgotten shame welling in his chest. He had only learned any reading in Kirkwall, where most literature was written in the common tongue.</span>
</p><p>Her brows furrowed in something like understanding, “Ah, is it the memory thing? Varric did mention you have some issues on that front.”</p><p>He considered allowing her to labor under the impression that his lack of knowledge was due to the magic that stole so much from him, but something about her ignorance urged him to speak up. “Slaves are not taught to read.”</p><p>Her face didn’t color, and she showed no sign of the embarrassment that her assumption should have entailed. “My apologies,” she said. “Perhaps if it were read aloud, you could-”</p><p>Fenris recalled nights spent with scraps of paper clutched in his hands, struggling to make out words with a scruffy chin resting on his shoulder, locks of rose gold hair tickling his ear, a sweet voice pushing him through it, while soft magic eased a growing ache behind his eyes.</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Leave it. It's done.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>“I am afraid I would be no help in this matter,” he told her in one breath. He didn’t realize until afterwards that he’d interrupted her. “Sorry,” he tacked on, belatedly.</p><p>“No matter,” she said, taken aback, though not unkind, “I’ll have Dorian look at it later. That isn’t really as pressing as the task I have for you.”</p><p>Action was more up Fenris’ alley. Anything to get his mind off these memories of Kirkwall flooding around him. The biting wind reminded him sharply of his journey down the storm coast with Isabela’s crew, the whole trip spent in jovial anticipation of a reunion that would never be. Even Lavellan herself, strong-willed and furious as a storm, brought Minhaya's demeanor to his head with cold clarity.</p><p>“We’ll be heading out to the Arbor Wilds soon to deal with Calpernia, as you know, but I’ve just received word from Dorian and Varric that we may have a new lead on the slaver issue in the Emprise,” she seemed frustrated then, angry even as she hefted herself up and made her way to where he stood by the railed overlook, “I have to be with my forces, but I can’t allow this filth to continue laboring under the Inquisition’s eye.”</p><p>“Certainly not,” he agreed, looking down at her hardening expression. </p><p>“I’m glad we’re in accordance. Iron Bull and Cassandra will be joining you there, while I deal with this last bit of Corypheus’ forces,” she stopped for a moment, re-establishing eye contact for a stern effect, “I need the leader in one piece; Leliana is certain he’s the Tevinter connection, Fenris. If we get him, we can destroy their little operation for good.”</p><p>
  <span>Fenris seriously doubted it would be as easy as that, but the Inquisition’s reach was long, and Lavellan’s confidence was contagious.</span>
</p><p>“I can bring him to you,” he answered firmly, holding out a hand for her to grasp. His mind supplied an image of Hawke doing the same and he had to ignore the way the memory lanced through his chest.</p><p>“That’s all I ask,” she grinned, taking his arm at the elbow.</p><p>He spent that evening with Varric at the Herald's Rest; they played a half-hearted hand of wicked grace before his dwarven companion produced a bottle of Tevinter wine for him and settled into tinkering with his crossbow.</p><p>They sat in silence for a long while, which was odd for Varric at least. Not that the Bull's Chargers didn't provide enough noise for the lot of them anyway.</p><p>“So you're headed through the mountains?” Varric asked him suddenly, finally laying Bianca down to the side of him and taking a long sip from his horn of ale.</p><p>Fenris had been contemplating the dregs at the bottom of his bottle when the dwarf spoke and looked up with one eyebrow raised in question. “Is that surprising?”</p><p>In lieu of an answer, Varric asked something else, “Have you heard from Rivaini at all?”</p><p>“Not personally,” he thought back to discovering Lavellan alone in the war room, perusing Isabela’s mission reports, the previous week. In that moment, the Inquisitor had appeared as lacking in composure as she would ever be. Even then, she had only rushed to stash them away and excused herself abruptly. “But I hear she's doing fine.”</p><p>“As ever.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“You'll do fine too,” Varric seemed to be trying to convince someone of this, though Fenris couldn't fathom who. “Slavers are easy as pie for you.”</p><p>The elf squinted his eyes suspiciously in Varric's general direction, “Of course.”</p><p>“Easy as pie,” Varric repeated, contemplatively. Fenris was too tired to wonder why he seemed uneasy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Lavender and starflower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fenris gets even spikier</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was done so I’m posting it before the next chapter of FtMotD hope y’all like it. My baby is turning 1 this week I can’t believe it!! So if you don’t hear from me til after, enjoy your holidays and stay safe 🥰</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Of course, it hadn’t been easy at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, capturing the slaver was simple enough; it was the return trip that was hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris had collapsed from his mount a few kilometers out of Sarnia, where they’d found red templars not only “recruiting,” but selling those that they couldn’t make use of to a man from the Imperium by the name of Caladrius.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dispatching lackeys was second nature to all of them, not killing their piece of shit leader was more difficult for Fenris in particular. What proved to be his downfall, however, was continued contact with blighted lyrium.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He half awoke two days later, with a sore neck, and slumped over Iron Bull’s meaty forearms. The steady trot of the horse beneath them shook him like an earthquake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bull, he’s waking up,” he just barely heard Cassandra, through the thundering in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Bull said and he couldn’t tell if it was to him or Cassandra. “We’ll find a healer soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His hands are bleeding!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s just his tattoos turning red.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Fenris had just barely enough time to worry about the color of his markings. He lifted a hand, and through the blur of his illness, could see a faint red glow where white once was. Then his hand dropped of its own accord and he didn’t open his eyes again until he was within Skyhold’s halls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m doing what I can for you,” he heard the mage say faintly, kindly, warm hands gently squeezing his right bicep, “If you hadn’t noticed I’m a bit out of my depth here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sweet words from a righteous mouth, through teeth clenched with determination. A dream, it had to be. The voice warped slightly as the mage continued and he felt strange pins and needles of magic flowing through him; it’s not the same. And how could it be?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fool.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know why you even brought him to me. Where’s Solas? Or Vivienne?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answer came from Cassandra for sure, “Solas is with the Inquisitor in Crestwood and Madame de Fer and Josephine are trying to convince a nobleman to offer protection to Clan Lavellan from some raiding parties near the Kirkwall border. You are all we have at the moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn. Surely even Morrigan would be more useful in this department than I would? Did that Caladrius fellow do this to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris fought to open his eyes, feeling the need to flee the unfamiliar magic inside him. It felt too hot, almost burned him, not the aloe-soft soothing he was used to. He could only squirm, weakness weighing him down. Had he been poisoned?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was not able to locate her. And no, it appears to be exposure to red lyrium affecting his own markings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn,” he grunted with effort, and it was punctuated in his magic. A sharp burst of energy had Fenris shooting up from where he lay, reaching for a greatsword that wasn’t there. He felt the gentle buzz of foreign magic coursing through him, even after breaking contact, and could feel only fury for this violation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His markings began to light, giving him away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fasta vas!” Pavus exclaimed. “Your arm!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris paused to heed him, holding his sword arm in front of his face, looking on in horror. Where pure lyrium used to reside, now a crimson mockery; glossy red like the solid mineral he'd seen, fracturing and protruding slightly in places, winding up his arm before fading into the uncorrupted lines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maker help us,” Cassandra remarked, exasperated; she collapsed into the chair that the Altus normally claimed, likely tired from the journey there. She shut her eyes heavily and heaved out a somewhat relieved sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris found himself atop a table that had clearly been moved to the middle of the curved walkway for the sole purpose of placing him upon it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is an unfortunate turn of events..” Pavus muttered darkly, an intense and speculative gaze raking along the lines on Fenris’ (apparently exposed) upper body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunate?” Cassandra replied sardonically, not bothering to open her eyes, and letting her head fall back against the seat in earnest. Her body seemed to deflate as all the tension fled from her in another frustrated breath. “Dorian, do you have any idea what this means for the continuation of the missions Fenris has been leading?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perplexed, The Altus turned to face Fenris instead. Fenris didn't fail to notice that the man backed up a few paces before engaging him in conversation. “What? Red not your favorite color? You appeared to have enough strength to rally an attack when you woke,” he sniffed, glancing toward Cassandra furtively, “I would likely have been run through if they hadn't removed your sword before dumping you in front of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris nodded his agreement, unconcerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra lifted her head laboriously to glare at both of them, “Putting a dent in the slave trade would serve your purposes well when you return home, and in case you forgot, the lyrium in his skin now carries the blight.” Both her hands clenched into fist on the armrests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment Leliana descended the stair, bringing with her a burly, dwarven scout carrying two mugs of steaming liquid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seeker Cassandra, our Skyhold surgeon requested I escort you to your rooms so you may rest,” the scout handed one of the mugs to Fenris, who held it in both hands, cautiously taking a whiff of its contents, and then continued on to attempt ushering the snarling seeker to her quarters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cassandra, please listen to Bear,” Leliana intoned, with only mild consternation, “they are just trying to do their job.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am in no need of a nursemaid,” she answered furiously, declining the mug of what Fenris knew now was a wine made of pomegranate and elfroot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that the spymaster laughed, “Bear is no nursemaid, they are a mercenary. Now, behave. They have a low tolerance for spoilt nobility.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra grudgingly left, her evident exhaustion winning over her outrage. She snatched the still proffered cup from Bear and stomped out. Bear just shrugged at them and followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now,” Leliana said, turning her attention to Fenris, “we haven't learned much concerning red lyrium. But I may have access to some resources we haven't tapped yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris sipped his wine at first and then tipped the entire contents to the back of his throat without answering her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She attempted to object but he had already swallowed. Leliana sighed, “That wine was distilled with an enhanced herbal sedative.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris didn't care. He was going to turn into a ghoul and was not about to be conscious for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Magically enhanced,” she clarified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps this would have been an issue, but the enhancement became rather evident quite suddenly and he only shrugged in answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose I'll make this quick,” she began, “my scouts discovered a font of information called </span>
  <em>
    <span>bas-sidh </span>
  </em>
  <span>on an island just off the coast of Tevinter, going towards Par Vollen. It will be a long journey, and the island is constantly changing hands, due to its proximity to both Par Vollen and the Tevinter coast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When do I leave?” Fenris was pretty sure he wasn't slurring his words, but he noticed the common tongue was starting to escape him. Or was it just his tongue? Where did it go? It was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is almost always battle-ridden, and..” she paused here appearing to examine Fenris closely, and Pavus took the opportunity to interject,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I leave? My services don't appear to be needed..” The Altus asked, already seeming ready to flee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you stay,” Fenris surprised himself by answering. Then decided not to elaborate, since he wasn’t quite intoxicated enough to admit that the man smelled like lavender and starflower, which he found calming, which in turn distressed him greatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both looked at him in open surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually he felt the weight of awkward silence enough to say, “Nevermind, you can leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regardless, you will be needing our Tevinter Altus to accompany you, so it's just as well you asked him to stay. Dorian, your homecoming will be earlier than anticipated and you will be needing to meet with Magister Tilani when you pass through to get to the bas-sidh. Your connections are key in this and Fenris, once cured, could..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the last that Fenris’ muddled mind could process, and he dropped back hard against the table to the sound of hoarse cursing in Tevene, as the Altus scrambled to cushion his head.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had like a whole scene where Dorian and Fenris conversed in my made up version of Tevene bc Fenris was so hopped up on magic meds that he forgot the common tongue but it was just goofy sounding and I couldn’t make them sound in character. So I’ll revisit that later. Happy holidays again ✨✨</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Safe harbors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fenris receives news about the results of his mission and Isabela makes an appearance.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: canon typical mentions of slavery, mentions of character death and my ample feels being spread like a virus for which I apologize</p><p>Hope everyone is enjoying the holidays</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fenris awoke this time to the distinct sound of everything going to shit.</p><p>Lavellan’s voice could be heard from his small room along the battlements, echoing about the mountain hold with a force that seemed to shake the earth. He was able to ignore her, up until she was right outside his door, heatedly arguing with an increasingly frightened sounding scout.</p><p>“I'm sure it is quite urgent, Scout Megdred, but please inform my advisors it will have to wait!”</p><p>“O-of course, Lady Inquisitor! My apologies,” he heard the muffled stammer just barely over his door banging open.</p><p>Her furious aura infected his entire quarters and he sat up to attention clumsily, knocking his greatsword from where it leaned beside his bed. It hit the floor with a <em> clang </em> that reverberated and made them both wince.</p><p>“Inquisitor,” he greeted promptly, clutching his thin sheets to his chest like a chaste maiden caught unawares.</p><p>“<em> The Hero of Ferelden, </em> ” she spat the title as though it were a swear, “our very own warden queen, had her own opportunity to dissolve this band of slavers <em> years ago. </em>”</p><p>“I'm sorry?” was all Fenris could think to say, his brain not forming the connection that Lavellan appeared to be presenting him.</p><p>“The alienage! Denerim! Cousland caught Loghain working with slavers! From Tevinter! She let these assholes go free for leverage against him in her stupid political maneuvers, that slimy, treacherous, shemlen bitch!” she fumed, and continued, softer, more dangerous, “And Leliana.. was there. She was <em> there. </em>”</p><p>This was news to Fenris, and perhaps, were his mind less muddled, he would have reacted with more heat, but as it stood he couldn't quite get a grasp on his own thoughts.</p><p>She seemed to sense his struggle. “We interrogated Caladrius. The one you caught.”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>“He was old and he broke too soon, but we needn't have bothered,” she spat acidly, “<em> Leliana knew everything he knew. </em>”</p><p>“So what's our plan now?” he asked, her dappled face catching his eye as she approached. It was bare. Her vallaslin glaringly absent. He blinked. “Your..”</p><p>For the first time, he saw Lavellan flush with something other than anger. “Yes it appears we're both undergoing drastic changes in appearance,” she snapped a bit defensively, with a pointed gesture to his right arm. He covered it instinctively with his left and her tone softened then, “though yours are a might more concerning.”</p><p>“Inquisitor!” Lady Montilyet approached the doorway looking harried, and ringing her manicured, hands nervously, her golden silks and ruffles seemingly subdued in the dim morning light, “I have been looking everywhere for you!”</p><p>“What is it?” she asked, worriedly.</p><p>“Perhaps,” she hesitated, “I am loath to suggest it, but you may want to sit down.”</p><p>Lavellan’s eyes darkened. “What is it?” she said again, this time with a commanding overtone.</p><p>“It's your clan, Briathara,” the Ambassador said weakly.</p><p>“What about my clan?” If the Inquisitor had qualms about the use of her first name, she didn't let it show.</p><p>“They are dead,” she said after a beat. Lavellan sat down. Right on Fenris’ floor. “All of them.”</p><p>Lavellan was silent, shaking with emotion that Fenris couldn't read; the sight prompted him to ask, “How?”</p><p>Josephine bit her lip, and he suspected that were she a weaker person she'd be crying, but she held his gaze with not so much as a tremble, “We.. we were deceived. The nobleman we pursued for protection was behind the attacks.”</p><p>“No more.”</p><p>Lavellan's whispered order should have gone unheard, but it was as though the world quieted to hear her speak.</p><p>“Inquisitor?” both Fenris and the Ambassador queried at once.</p><p>Lavellan shot up, lunging at Josephine so quickly that someone with slower reflexes would not have caught her. Fenris, despite his condition, clambered from his bed, even in his state of half-dress, dragging her back by the collar in the nick of time. He'd never imagined he'd lay a staying hand on the Inquisitor, but it was too early in the morning to watch her kill a trusted advisor.</p><p>“No more!” she shouted in Josephine's face, who for all her apparent delicacy, took it in stride. “No more shem politics! No more diplomacy! Let the breach open back up and swallow your damned people! Let the Dread Wolf take you all!”</p><p>“I understand, Inquisitor,” she answered neutrally, eyeing Fenris fingers digging into the thick leather “Perhaps you would like to take this discussion somewhere else, and allow Ser Fenris to dress himself properly.”</p><p>“No discussion,” she answered tiredly, and the warrior released his hold on her when she sagged into herself. “I need rest. Fenris, when you are ready, meet with Cullen. He has information and supply points for your journey.”</p><p>She breezed past Lady Montilyet without another word and Josephine excused herself shortly after.</p><p>For his part, he had completely forgotten he had his own journey to make and the thought had him crawling back into bed to avoid it. </p><p>By the time Fenris cared to venture out, the sun was high, gleaming so bright on the snow that it gave him a headache. He began his descent of the ramparts towards the Commander’s office.</p><p>Cullen greeted him as an old friend, looking somewhat worse for wear.</p><p>“Fenris! I heard about the red lyrium. I’ve been trying to find time to check in on you,” he said apologetically.</p><p>“No need, Commander. I’m sure you’re kept busy enough as it is,” he offered with a smile of understanding.</p><p>Cullen sighed, “The Inquisitor seems to think the best solution to her displeasure with the other advisors is to punish me with the added work of their tasks.”</p><p>“That seems unwise at such a crucial time,” he pointed out, pulling out a chair and sitting across the desk from him.</p><p>“It does,” he acknowledged, carefully, “but wisdom in times of hardship is hard to come by.”</p><p>“I heard you have travel plans for me?”</p><p>“Better still, I have horses and rations for your trip,” he told him.</p><p>“I am very much obliged,” he replied as the Commander dug through his mountain of paperwork, retrieving a map and some requisition sheets to be delivered to the kitchens and stables on their day of departure.</p><p>“It is good to see you,” Cullen said wistfully, “In truth I often wish for the simpler times of Kirkwall.”</p><p>“Simpler, were they?” Fenris asked him sardonically.</p><p>He chuckled, “For me, at least. I know you and the rest of Hawke’s band of troublemakers had a complicated existence.”</p><p>After a beat, he added, “I never did offer my condolences after Adamant. I have been remiss. I am sorry for your loss, my friend.”</p><p>“Thank you,” was all Fenris could think to say. The Commander seemed reluctant to send him off, despite his steadily building workload, so Fenris saved him the effort and went on his way.</p><p>His next step would be to visit with the Altus since they were apparently meant to collaborate, but after his rude awakening this morning and now with the knowledge that he needn’t have even gone on the mission that left him blighted he knew he was in no mood to interact with the man.</p><p>Instead he wandered Skyhold, passing through the great hall and the gardens, the mage tower and the courtyard, visiting the quartermaster for a simple bracer for his right arm, his typical gauntlet having become uncomfortable with the way the lyrium spiked from the markings on his hand.</p><p>By evening time, he made his way to the Herald’s Rest, where he caught sight of Varric sitting with none other than Isabela at their usual table. He slid into an empty chair next to her without a word, and her face lit up at the sight of him.</p><p>“Broody!” Varric said, leaning back in his seat, “We were just talking about you.”</p><p>“I had wondered why it was so silent when I arrived,” he said with a smirk. Then he directed at Isabela, “So, you’re back?”</p><p>She leaned into his left shoulder to receive a hug he hadn’t offered, but he gave nonetheless, then let out a thoughtful huff, “I thought I’d stick around ‘til Corypheus is dead. I’ve a debt to collect.”</p><p>“You keep saying that Rivaini,” Varric laughed, “but every time, you just leave after seeing her.”</p><p>Isabela scowled at that, “Maybe she’s hard on the eyes.”</p><p>He laughed even harder.</p><p>“Have either of you seen her yet?” Fenris asked curiously, “Since she returned from Crestwood?”</p><p>“No,” Isabela admitted, then suspiciously, “Why, have you?”</p><p>He nodded and frowned pensively, “I can’t say, since it seemed personal to her when I brought it up, but perhaps you should.. see her.”</p><p>“I intend to,” she said, content to drop it, “but not tonight. I don’t want to sour my mood.”</p><p>“Speaking of sour moods,” Varric started, and somehow Fenris knew the segway would lead right into his upcoming journey to what might as well have been the void itself, “did you hear Broody over here is Tevinter-bound?”</p><p>“What?” Isabela pulled away from him to look at his face in surprise, “Why?”</p><p>He sent Varric a glare before holding up his right hand to show her. “I need healing the Inquisition can’t provide.”</p><p>Isabela stared for a moment, taking in the sight of red crystal trailing into the sleeve of his loose, black shirt. When she comprehended, she adopted a rare crestfallen look.</p><p>“Does this mean you have the blight?” </p><p>“No one is sure,” he said, unwilling to contemplate that right now, “but it makes me feel ill frequently.” Weak, too, but he left that out. Let him have <em> some </em> pride as he returned to the place he lived as a slave, likely to masquerade as a slave to pass through unnoticed. His demeanor darkened considerably. </p><p>“I know that look,” Varric chimed, getting up from his seat, “time for something a little stronger than ale. Maybe a lot.”</p><p>He walked away to order them drinks, leaving Bianca on the table with them.</p><p>“It’s nice that he trusts us,” Isabela said, reaching out for the crossbow with a longing smile.</p><p>“He trusts <em> me </em>,” he said, batting her hand away good-naturedly.</p><p>She laughed, and when it subsided, they fell into a silence filled with melancholy that drowned out the chatter and merriment that surrounded them.</p><p>“Do you know what the Inquisitor said when I won that duel? When I asked her why she was keeping tabs on me?” Isabela asked him, quietly. She ran her finger along the edge of her empty pint glass.</p><p>“No,” he admitted, “You never told me.”</p><p>“<em> Safe harbors, Isabela. </em>”</p><p>Understanding sparked in his mind, and he thought he caught the glint of a tear running down her cheek.</p><p>“Hawke?”</p><p>Her voice broke as she affirmed, “Hawke.”</p><p>She composed herself over the course of a few minutes and when Varric returned with a bottle of whisky and three glasses, she took them and started to pour.</p><p>Once their drinks were distributed among them she held up her glass.</p><p>“A toast?” Varric wondered with dark amusement, likely reading the mood at the table.</p><p>“A promise,” she said thickly.</p><p>Fenris shrugged and held his glass up as well, and Varric did the same.</p><p>“This Inquisition will not have even one more of us! We will see the end of it.”</p><p>“We will see the end of it!” Varric parroted, but Fenris didn’t know that he hadn’t broken that promise already. Still, he clinked his glass with theirs and they drained them all together.</p><p>The night spiraled on in a drunken stupor, and Fenris dreamt of Kirkwall for days after.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lol I really said here Fenris perceive this drama for pretty much this whole chapter. I promise he gets to focus on himself later. But uh. Not in the next chapter, but eventually lmao I’m sorry okay I have a lot of feelings about a lot of things</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Wine and Compassion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things get heated in the Skyhold library, and in the rotunda, and then they cool off with some wine in the kitchens, or Fenris has a long day.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: drama. self-indulgent drama; very brief, vague allusion to s*icidal thoughts at the end of the chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The library was crowded on the day Fenris felt well enough to approach the Altus with preparations for their journey. He had mixed feelings. On the one hand he felt like a burden, as though he were rushing the man back to a homeland neither of them were ready to return to, and on the other, he was feeling rather put-upon himself to be forced to travel with a magister in all but name. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He first came across a depressed-looking, bare-faced Inquisitor Lavellan in Pavus’ usual seat, and, in a plush armchair that had been pulled up across from her, sat Seeker Pentaghast, their legs haphazardly intertwined to share a footrest in the center, each with her nose buried deep in a book with a questionably dressed (for battle) heroine wielding a sword on the cover. Fenris was surprised to recognize them as different volumes of Varric’s romance serial, but wasn’t able to comment, as a bald elf spattered with specks of paint crossed in front of him to stand before the two.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pavus approached at the same time from the other side, carrying an old tome with decidedly Tevene looking letters, though Fenris couldn’t say for sure. Pavus stopped dead at the sight of the Inquisitor and Solas in his normal daytime dwelling place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah yes,” he quipped bracingly, and Fenris got the sense that he was speaking out of nervousness more than anything else, “the divine scent of an impending lovers’ quarrel. How I’ve missed it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be quiet, Dorian,” Lavellan warned, still not looking up from her reading.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To be honest I was worried about you,” the elf addressed her, “This is the first time you’ve left your quarters since..”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inquisitor Lavellan’s book snapped shut promptly, and finally, she pierced the elven mage with her dark eyes, “Since what, Solas?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fenris could see his shoulders flex with tension, as though he’d been caught in a trap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see I needn’t have worried, as you share an enviable intimacy with your friends,” he said calmly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lavellan’s head tilted in a curious and dangerous way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Intimacy?” she parroted. And then glanced at the tangle of her legs and Cassandra’s. “Intimacy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without warning, she leapt upward, nearly upending the Seeker in the process, and lobbed the book at Solas’ head. It narrowly missed, but he looked appropriately stricken, as the book soared by his ear and over the rail, hitting the barely dry fresco on its way to the ground, where it landed with a dull ‘thwack.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I WONDER </span>
  <em>
    <span>WHY </span>
  </em>
  <span>I WOULD BE TOUCH-STARVED, SOLAS?” her voice echoed upward throughout the rotunda, disturbing the aviary’s occupants, and earning a few pairs of questioning eyes peering over the landing. “NOT AS THOUGH I THOUGHT I WAS FINALLY GOING TO GET LAID LIKE A WILD ANIMAL IN A WYVERN CAVE AND INSTEAD I GOT STRIPPED OF MY CULTURE, MY CLAN, AND MY LOVER ALL IN ONE DAY!” Fenris’ gaze traveled from the shocked Solas, to the surreptitiously and silently observing Seeker, to the Altus who looked rather blatantly to be taking some devious enjoyment from the scandal of that particular revelation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I only meant—” Solas made to defend himself but stopped and said instead, “I misspoke, Inquisitor. Forgive me. I see you are in good health and company, so I will take my leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave a respectful bow, and the Inquisitor watched his retreat with a glare sharper than the daggers she carried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She only then noticed Fenris with a grimace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I make no apologies,” she said, though it wasn’t clear if she was speaking to him, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Correct,” the Seeker agreed, and patted the seat next to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lavellan sat and the tension eased enough for Fenris to say, “I’m sorry about your clan, and your.. culture.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Lavellan seemed not to have heard his mediocre attempt at condolences, turning to the Altus and saying acidly, “Wipe the smirk from your face before I hack off your mustache.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do love the way you go on,” Pavus said, unobliging. “What can I do to get you to shout at me like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lavellan’s face hardened, yet a smile formed there, “It seems like you’re on the right track. Just keep flirting and never fuck me, and the whole time, make it seem like you’re just about to leave forever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Easy,” he said, but adopted a sad expression, causing another wave of guilt to wash over Fenris for tearing him from the Inquisitor in her time of greatest need.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She deflated a bit, then looked to Seeker Pentaghast who, it appeared, had been waiting for just such a thing, as she peered back knowingly over the top of her reading.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose it can’t wait forever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, my friend,” she replied, “we cannot be at odds when Corypheus comes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gracefully closed the book and stood, offering her hand to Lavellan, who took it, and rose up once more, this time with purpose. They walked back the way the Altus came, no doubt to avoid descending into Solas’ domain on the lower level.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pavus looked at him thoughtfully, and Fenris felt annoyed by the weight of his stare, now that they had the alcove to themselves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You watched that exchange in silence,” he remarked. “Do you also enjoy the intrigue of a scorned lover?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fenris bristled, but restrained his urge to growl. “I came to speak with you, so why should I comment on things that don’t concern me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I only thought it was a shame,” he said, sounding conciliatory, “since you have such a deep timbre. Soothing, even.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that, Fenris did growl, “I am not here to entertain or soothe baby magisters.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now you’re just being petty,” he replied, unbothered. “In any case, you and I are Tevinter-bound in two days' time, so I hate to inform you, but we will likely need to speak to one another at some point. Multiple points, in fact. Don’t worry though, I can entertain myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was hard for Fenris to determine if he meant any of the innuendo that leaked into his tone, as he had forgone eye contact in favor of flicking through the pages of the tome he still held.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have the requisitions for our travel supplies,” he said through clenched teeth. What an arduous journey he was in for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pavus looked up, “Oh, good! That reminds me, I spoke with Dagna about fashioning us some message crystals like the Venatori have been using to communicate. Much faster than birds. Less mess too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fenris knew of them, their preciousness to be precise, and in his surprise he let slip a hopeful sounding, “For each of us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pavus, whose gaze had wandered back to his reading, met Fenris’ eyes once more and seemed to realize something that caused him some embarrassment, for he looked quickly away and shut his tome to store it for later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will of course need to be in communication with the Inquisition. You are important, and I dare say the Inquisitor feels responsible for your condition,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She did not force me to go,” Fenris said, “I did that myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know that, and you know that, but you’d have a hard time convincing her of it. She still thinks she’s somehow personally responsible for—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fenris did not want to speak about Hawke, so he cut him off, “Was that apostate the one who removed her tattoos?” he nodded over the rail.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dorian shrugged, calmly accepting the subject change without taking offense, “I assume so. Neither of them will speak of it.” Fenris noticed his eyes wandering over his exposed bits of skin, tracing his markings as though he’d read his mind. But if he did, he made no mention, only muttered something lowly under his breath about Genitivi and wandered away to peruse a shelf of tomes, near a table where two tranquil were morbidly studying severed limbs from red templars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stared for far too long at an arm completely made of red lyrium, or at least encased in it. Feeling bile in the back of his throat, he quickly turned on his heel and fled down the stairs into the rotunda.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stumbled upon the bald elf rinsing paint brushes in a small basin at the foot of an intricate mural, still wet and shining.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fenris considered not asking, but in the end, if it could stop him having to travel to Tevinter with Pavus, wasn’t it worth prying into something the Inquisitor clearly thought of as personal?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” he tried, but had no idea how to begin. He’d never spoken to this elf. Had never had a desire to further mingle with apostates since—well, that hardly mattered now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Solas stood, fruitlessly dusting at dried paint on his tunic, and meeting Fenris’ eyes with a rather scrutinizing look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The lyrium wolf,” he concluded. That somewhat soured this first interaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I go by Fenris,” he corrected, making his annoyance evident.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, I meant to say that I had heard of you,” he inclined his head a bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” not from Varric if his first thought was to greet him as </span>
  <em>
    <span>lyrium wolf.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My travels in the Fade have yielded many tales of you,” he explained, and Fenris had to wonder if his thoughts were somehow writing themselves on his forehead. But also. He was reconsidering this whole conversation at that statement. It wrenched at his heart to ask, but he could not stop himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“From spirits?” his mouth had gone dry. He felt like something living trembled at the back of his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would that upset you?” Solas asked, ever perceiving.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he lied. “What kind of spirits?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Freedom, Valor, Loyalty,” he paused, contemplating, then said, “Justice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There it was. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>survived, remained whole, retained its purpose, while </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anders</span>
  </em>
  <span>—he thought of a clinic on the edge of the slums, looking out over murky water, the smell of brine and low tide, always there under a thin veil of elfroot and spindleweed. A head of red-gold hair ever bent to tend the wounded and ailing, even as his own body failed of malnutrition . Even as he asked, so softly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Would you do me a favor love? I need something from outside the city to treat this. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The last lie he told him, the last time he saw him. How could he say no? Anything, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, if only to give him that chance, a sliver of a moment to rest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did it say about me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That you’re not over fond of magic,” Solas admitted wryly. “That you dance in and out of the fade when you fight. That you revile mages who commune with spirits, but made a pact with a pride demon yourself once. That you—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So everything. You could just say everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not everything,” Solas corrected, “They were resolutely unforthcoming with anything about you that happened outside the fade, though </span>
  <em>
    <span>Justice </span>
  </em>
  <span>in particular likely knew more than he was willing to impart.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That brought Fenris up short, “Were you intentionally seeking information on me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not on you, per say,” he said, and added evasively, “I’ve my own interests regarding Tevinter, but yours was a thread I could not follow to its source.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Understanding dawned, “You’re suspicious of me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Solas lifted his shoulders noncommittally, leaning a hip on the table and crossing his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re an </span>
  <em>
    <span>apostate</span>
  </em>
  <span> who frequently talks to spirits, </span>
  <em>
    <span>plural spirits,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you’re suspicious of </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In essence, I suppose, though my concern is for your markings, more than you, personally. I do not think it’s wise to take them back into Tevinter hands.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then by all means, take them,” Fenris offered, baring his clenched teeth in aggravation at the implication that they would be in anyone’s hands but his own if they were still on his body, “Are you not the one who stripped the Inquisitor of hers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Solas sighed, “Yes.. I apologize. I believe I am still tense from—well,” he left the thought hanging in the air, ”In any case, I cannot remove yours. The lyrium alone would complicate the spell beyond my capabilities, but the </span>
  <em>
    <span>red lyrium.. </span>
  </em>
  <span>suffice it to say, I truly hope they can help, whoever the Inquisition sends you to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I thank you for your concern,” Fenris said, unfathomably, irrationally angry, and fighting it with every fiber of his being.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He left, without saying any further pleasantries, rather than risk taking out his frustration on the elf.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He caught sight of Isabela chatting with Josephine in the main hall, and waved to them on his way down to the kitchens. He never sat well with hunger, and if anything would be a quick fix for his mood, it would be bread and wine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He found bread, but no wine, and the hall was empty of staff. Considering lunch had just passed, maybe they were resting before dinner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A boy appeared so suddenly before him, he startled Fenris and made him jump back, embarrassingly wielding his bread in defense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Venhedis!” he huffed, lowering the bread, “Where did you come from?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The pantry,” he replied simply, tilting his head so that the wide brim of his hat concealed his face.</span>
</p>
<p>“But I—wait, what were you doing in the pantry?” but he needn’t have asked, as he could see plainly the boy carried a bottle of wine. “Are you old enough to drink that?”</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bittersweet like homecoming, an ache in my belly to dull the ache in my heart. Will I go to be with you, Amatus? I would end it if I knew.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fenris’ heart raced, battering against his ribs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you—?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, oh no, it’s tangled—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Crimson corruption, callous and crawling; he was right all along. Will I be like mad Meredith in the square? </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m making it worse!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cole!” Pavus intervened, from the bottom of the stairs. “Just give him the wine. I don’t think he wants your help just now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy—Cole turned to him, eyes barely visible through his fringe. He held out a hand, the practiced motion of a wave in front of Fenris’ face, causing him to flinch backward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For—”</span>
</p>
<p>“Let him keep the memory, Cole,” the Altus said, standing next to the boy now with a gentle hand on his shoulder, the other wresting the wine from his grasp to hand it to Fenris, who tucked the bread under his arm to take it.</p>
<p>
  <span>“He will be afraid of me. Then I won’t be able to help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nonsense! I’m sure h—Is that my Aggregio, Cole?” he asked, taking on a look of understanding that burned when it landed on Fenris. “Have you been pilfering it this whole time to give to him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” said Cole. “I’ve been giving it to Varric. If I leave it in his room, he’ll think it’s from you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would he think that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you want to look at him more, and he would know it was yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cole!” Pavus exclaimed, looking between the boy and Fenris in panic now, “That’s not—I don’t..” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He continued on for a good minute, something about </span>
  <em>
    <span>not for my entertainment</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>just want to help</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but Fenris paid him no mind. He flared his markings briefly to phase through the bottle and pull out the cork with his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Altus swallowed audibly, and Fenris followed it up by taking a huge gulp from the bottle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not afraid of you,” he told Cole, firstly, then swung his arm out to point the bottleneck at Pavus. “You, hush. Do you want it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want what?” he asked, confusion evident when he met Fenris’ gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your wine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” he said, “I—maybe one glass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fenris thrust the bottle back at him, roughly, “No glass. I’m done pouring for magisters.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m perfectly capable of—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hush. Drink,” he said, grabbing the stool used for peeling potatoes and sitting by the counter to wait his turn. “Why would I be scared of you, Cole?” he asked abruptly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cole shifted uneasily, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>A monster wrapped in soft skin, my heart tangled up in his feathers and hair, the tethers torn by a hawk’s talons.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I am not the same as Justice. I am Compassion, but you will not believe me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fenris looked at him incredulously, and grasped blindly to the side for the return of the wine, saying faintly, “The Inquisition is harboring an abomination?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cole glanced at Pavus, “I am going to make him forget.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you—!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Forget</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Cole said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who said? What?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was the Altus handing him an open bottle of Aggregio?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you liked it! I wasn’t going to post this until I had the next chapter complete but I read a bad take about fanfic on Twitter so I decided to post out of spite ✌️🥲</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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